| SNOWBALLING INTO MADNESS |
| �... It�s so cold,� exclaimed Elizabeth. They all had just come back to the hotel after visiting the elementary school, having discovered the strange book on the roof. Their clothes were drenched from the continuous exposure to the depths of the snow outside. Elizabeth minded more than the others. �And my clothes are so wet. Yuck!� She threw her coat onto the main counter, along with her useless, soaked gloves. Then, she began to walk toward their room but turned to face Greg when she reached the edge of the hallway. �I�m gonna go take a loooong, hot shower. Could you do me a favor and throw my clothes into the wash once I take �em off? If we�re gonna have to spend so much time here, might as well try to keep comfortable. Can�t stand sopped jeans.� Greg walked toward her, and as he passed the front desk, he placed his coat on top of it. �Another shower already? I know what you mean, though. Mine are soaked too and it�s driving me nuts.� He followed her into the hotel room and retrieved her clothes once she climbed into the shower. He left and returned to the lobby with the bundle in his arms. Passing by the desk, he saw Harmony sitting on the stool, munching on the last of the potato chips. Then, Greg crossed the room and entered a door on the opposite side from the entrance to the kitchen hallway. This door, which he had discovered earlier, led to another laundry room for visitors to use. Gregory was greatly relieved that this laundry room wasn�t as revolting as the employee one in that other hallway. He shuddered at the memory of that wing of the hotel. Curiosity had made him want to return to investigate, but his conscience told him just to leave it be; some secrets are best kept under wraps... permanently. He started up a wash and went back to the lobby. To his shock, Harmony wasn�t by the desk anymore; in fact, she wasn�t anywhere in the room. Panic didn�t seize him, for he figured she had just wandered off down the hall. Gregory still wasn�t convinced that there was an actual threat to fear in this town. So what if no one�s here? What does that mean?... It was Elizabeth who assumed dangers lurked around every corner. Walking into room 101, he found another pile of clothes outside the bathroom door. He knocked on the door and opened it a hair and called in, �Harmony in there?� �Yeah. She wanted a hot shower too. Could you uh... toss her clothes into the wash as well?� �Yeah sure.� Gathering the new wad of raiments, he walked past the closet and took a robe that was hanging inside. Then, he went back to the laundry room and put Harmony�s and his own clothes into the washer, and he wrapped the robe around himself. He didn�t feel like showering, but he felt his clothes might as well get washed, too. Greg waited a while in the lobby. Elizabeth wasn�t kidding when she said she wanted to take a long shower. He sat down at the counter and took another look at the newspaper article concerning the murders. He was intrigued to uncover the mystery of the abandoned town. One might say that he was enjoying his time trying to solve the matter. Re-eyeing the key rack that was hanging on the wall behind him, the missing 208 peg curiously jumped out to him. 205, 206, 207, 209, 210.... Very odd. Greg, while waiting for the girls to get done with their showers, decided to conduct an inquiry of that enigma. Walking down the hall, he headed toward the staircase in the back of the hotel. As he ascended the flight, the panels creaked under his weight. This was the first time he had ventured upstairs. Upon reaching a landing halfway, he noticed that there was no more carpeting. When he got to the top, Greg saw that the entire floor was bare wood. Such a simple thing made the atmosphere so different to him. Why wouldn�t they carpet this hall too? A slight draft began to blow under his robe. Straight ahead was an open window, under which a small pile of snow pressed against the wall. There was a great puddle of melted snow stretching out across the wood floor. Greg walked down the hall and his feet came in contact with the cold water. He scuttled over and shut the window and got out of the puddle as fast as he could. Room 208 was just two doors away from the window, now on his left. There was no number plate indicating that it was 208, but following sequential order, Gregory deducted that this was the door. Strange, no doorknob. He tried pushing on the door but it wouldn�t budge. The thought of kicking it open (or trying to, anyway) had occurred to him, yet, being barefoot, he decided it was best not to. So, with interests peaked, but not being properly equipped in attire, Greg postponed the inevitable and headed back down the stairs. As he came down the last few steps, Greg noticed that the entrance to the kitchen hallway was open, and he just caught a glimpse of his wife going through. �Don�t go in there!� He yelled out. He hurried across the lobby and flung the door open. Greg stood in disbelief. Elizabeth, who was in a robe herself and had her hair bundled up with a towel, turned around. She noticed that her husband seemed confused. �What is it, Greg?� He stared into what seemed to be a completely different hallway than what he had seen before. No longer was there the stench of rot and decay lingering in a cockroach-infested graveyard. Nor were the walls encrusted with filth and stained beyond restoration. The hallway was now... normal, or as normal as expected for a maintained hotel. Greg couldn�t believe his eyes. What happened? Where did it all go? Elizabeth called out again, since he never responded, �What�s wrong?� Coming back to attention, he shook his head and replied, �Oh, nothing. Just uh... felt dizzy for a sec.� It was a lie, of course, but he still did not feel like sharing with her his encounter that he had last night with this hallway, especially now that it appeared otherwise. She would think me crazy. �Oh...,� Elizabeth said and walked over to him. Harmony was further down the hall, near the kitchen doors. She, too, had a robe on, albeit too large for her, as it hung down around her feet and dragged on the floor. �You got the clothes going?� she asked. �Yeah......,� he replied, his voice trailed off, for his mind was still focused on other things. He gave a blank stare that peered past his wife; and she could tell. �Come on, Gregory. What is it?� He fixated his sight onto Elizabeth. �It�s nothing... I swear.� He felt uneasy deceiving her, but he just couldn�t say... it. �All right. If you say so,� Elizabeth responded. They began walking down the hall to catch up with Harmony, who was heading into the kitchen already. Greg rushed forward, passing Elizabeth. He was still in disbelief, especially regarding the oven. Immediately, he walked to the back of the room and checked it; it was clear. He sighed internally, greatly relieved that there were no dead felines on the menu, yet now he had a new concern. Was it a nightmare? But this is the same room... How can this be? He was terribly vexed. �I thought you said there wasn�t any food in here,� commented Elizabeth. She picked up an apple that was sitting on top of a pile of fruit in a big bowl. And there were loaves of bread on the counter and a cabinet full of various snack chips. Elizabeth walked over to a giant refrigerator and discovered a lot of meat and dairy products inside. She turned toward her husband, who was quite the dumbfounded soul. She waited for an explanation and gave him a look that she meant it. �I don�t know... it was dark and... I guess I just passed it by.� That was all he could muster without setting loose the cat. Her eyes frowned, much unconvinced, but she accepted it in the end. �Well... it�s time for a big feast.� She smiled. ~~~~~ As their clothes ran through a wash, rinse, and spin cycle and then tumbled around in the dryer, the Urbanics had their feast; and a feast it was. Between the three of them, they devoured six hamburgers, a bag of french fries, and half of a chocolate cake. Luckily for them, it was someone�s birthday at the hotel, but she disappeared before the cake got eaten. �Happy 26th Birthday Colleen.� Poor Harmony had trouble eating, for the extra long sleeves on the robe she wore kept falling over her tiny hands. She had to keep rolling them up. Yet, that didn�t prevent her from enjoying the food any less. She smiled as she ate Colleen�s double-fudge cake. After dinner, they got dressed; the short-lasting warmth that lingered from the dryer felt great to Elizabeth. Outside, the sun was gone and darkness loomed over the town once again. Snow was falling lightly. The time was 4:47. Their hope had risen a bit, now knowing there was a healthy supply of food to last for a few days. Plus, they reckoned someone would stop by come Monday, like a delivery truck or someone. All they needed to do was make it one more night. Little did they know of the true devastation the earthquake had caused. No one was even able to come. Now that he was dressed and had his boots on, Greg felt ready to tackle the knobless door of room 208. Elizabeth and Harmony followed him upstairs but remained at a distance from the door, by Gregory�s design. He didn�t want them near in case something was lurking behind the door. Leaning the sword against the wall, he took stance and began ramming and kicking the door. It barely budged at first, but then it started to buckle under the pressure, until it finally flung open. His shoulder was throbbing. Greg gazed inside. Darkness. �Just stay there for a second,� Greg said to his family, motioning his hand. He grabbed his sword and plunged into the black void. Feeling along the wall, he could find no light switch, so he walked on with caution. The light from the hallway helped some, for he could see shapes in his path; he just couldn�t discern what the shapes were. Also, there was a foul stench in the air, so thick that his stomach began to churn and he had to suppress a vomiting spell. He put one hand to his face to cover his mouth and nose. �Oh God,� he murmured, choking. His grip on the sword tightened, for he felt danger could be imminent. The door slammed shut. Quickly, he ran to the door to try to open it, but there was no knob, naturally. He reached his fingers under the ledge of the door to pull it open, but it would not move. Hollering out to his wife delivered him no answer. She, too, was on the other side of the door, pounding and screaming but receiving no reply. Somehow, the room was sound-proof, despite the crack that ran along the floor. She could see his fingers, though; she touched them to let him know she was there. Giving up trying to open the door, Greg stood up and faced the darkness before him. Now, there weren�t even any shapes in sight. It was utterly black. Once his nerves somewhat relaxed from the tense moment, so came back the stench about the room, the nauseating odor of death. It had seemed to vanish for a moment, but now returned in full force. He held the sword in front of himself, expecting to have to use it. Suddenly, a reddish light began to flicker about the room, much like that of a strobe light, only red like blood. With it, Greg began to distinguish objects. This room looked much like 101, with a bathroom to the right and beyond that a couple beds. But, there by the window, were two more figures: one, a person, and the other � Greg didn�t know what it was. It seemed to be a patch of black shadow hanging in the air. It kept no definite shape, but rather more of a dark mist lingering and flowing in a windless room. Out of the ominous cloud came a hand, which held an over-sized scythe. The hand raised, as did the blade, and came down onto the person standing next to it. The person let out a blood-curdling scream right before her head was sliced clean off and fell to the floor. Then, the black mist turned toward Greg and the scythe was raised once more. Greg believed he saw two red eyes staring at him through the haze, but he couldn�t be certain, for the red strobe light distorted his vision. Then, the light went out. Two red dots remained, however, and Greg just knew now that they were eyes. �Greg... or... y,� a fell voice called out to him. The sound of the voice was distant and trembled with a low pitch. Greg slowly backed toward the door and held the sword in front. His shoulders hit the door. �Do you remember..... the busssssss,� and the voice hissed, �Perhapssss you sssshould.... invessstigate......� The voice paused momentarily. �....insssside....� Every muscle in his body seemed to be quavering, then the eyes disappeared and the sound of his wife�s voice returned. She was pleading for him to answer, much with a tone of panic. The door jolted open from Elizabeth�s relentless pounding and Greg was caught off guard and he tumbled forward, throwing his sword across the floor. She rushed in to Greg�s side. Harmony stood by the open doorway; she was pale. Greg clambered to his knees and felt around for the sword. He was not sure if the mist and reaper were still there or not, but he would not take the chance to assume it fled. Searching rapidly, his left hand found the sword and his right hand found something else; it felt like a book. Picking both up, he stood up and rushed Elizabeth and himself out of the room and pulled the door shut behind them. In the light of the hallway, she could see that her husband was petrified. �What is it? You look frightened. What happened in there?� Greg was busy battling his conscience and interrogating his mind. Had I seen anything at all? For the meantime, though, he didn�t inform Elizabeth about it, keeping yet another incident only to himself. "I don't know. The door just shut suddenly," he replied. ~~~~~ Back in the lobby, Greg and Elizabeth sat down to examine the book he found in room 208. It looked exactly the same as the one found on the school�s roof, only the cover was a different color. Page after page contained the foreign script and again there was one page in English. It began with the same line as the first book but another line was added. This is what in read in full: �I am the One, back from the Void. They believed I was gone for good.� Even with another line to this cryptic message, the text was still useless and helped naught with solving the mystery, yet still feeling it important, Greg kept the book with the first one, just in case. A dense fog was drawing over Vagrant�s Hideaway. The evening was still early, 6:24 PM. Greg was consumed with the thought of what the mysterious voice had said to him. Gregory... do you remember the bus? Perhaps you should investigate inside. The memory of the words was so vivid in his mind and it haunted him. And it burned, until it just had to be done. He would leave no stone unturned. He would revisit the bus. Just as before, Gregory departed from Wanderer�s Retreat, leaving Elizabeth and Harmony inside room 101, with the door locked. They were awake this time, though, and hated not only being alone but also trapped. They had their share of food and Greg assured it would be the safest way to handle the situation. He didn�t delve into his reason for leaving. He simply said there was something he had to check. It was then that he looked for a flashlight and searched 208. But after finding nothing out of the ordinary, he left. So, to VH Elementary he went. ~~~~~ The sun had long since set and snow was now thick in falling. The fog still hung in a shroud of eeriness, illustrating to Greg how Vagrant�s Hideaway appeared to have a personality all its own. There was no trace of wind and he was happy for that, for the weather wasn�t nearly as terrible without it. The flashlight shone through the veil of night as a dispersed beam. Disturbingly silent, as usual, was Vagrant�s Hideaway this night. He could hear only his breath, which escaped in vapor, and the repetitive crunch of snow beneath his boots. The flip-turned bus was a ghastly testament to how something quite innocent can be surprisingly unnerving, given the proper setting and atmosphere. Of course, there was also the matter of the fear instilled in him from the vision inside room 208. As calm and collective as Greg usually was, he actually trembled at the sight of the bus. Yet, intrigue won over fear, and he resumed his investigation. Leaving his sword behind, he climbed on top of the vehicle and located the door, which was significantly buried. He cleared it off and pounded on it with his foot until it gave in and started to slide open. With his hands, he forced it open the rest of the way. Greg shone the light inside and looked for a footing. Slowly, he climbed down, using much caution to where he put his feet. The last thing he needed was to fall and get injured, where no one would be able to come to his rescue. When he reached bottom, he was standing on the driver�s window, with the steering wheel behind him and the seat before him. He directed the light toward the back of the bus, but he couldn�t see that far; the thickest jungle of spider webs he�d ever seen were blocking the way. He wished he wouldn�t have left the sword behind, so he could use it to slice the webs. There was now only one way. �Fuck it.� And he used his arms to begin the parting. Seat after seat, Greg climbed, searching every crevice of the floor along the way. Was there actually something there for him to find? Was he to believe in his continuing visions? Or was 208 for real? And what of his wife look-a-like? �Why am I here?� He whispered to himself. Despite his troubled state of mind, he persevered through the haven of spider webs. �I don�t even want to know what size spiders made these.� The third seat from the back - that�s where he found what he was supposed to be looking for. Another book? All this way for this? Greg tired of this riddle. He wanted an answer, not a further puzzlement. But it was painfully obvious that someone took a lot of time planting these books for someone to find. Inside, Greg found his one page of English - a continuation of the first two books. �I am the One, back from the Void. They believed I was gone for good. But as long as I am called upon� That�s how it read. But there was also a separate note, with a more modern appearance. �Now, T.J. Lacy, I had fun with him.� It was written in blood over a phone book page. The names listed in the background, however, weren�t that of the letter �L.� He�d have to find another phone book if he wished to pursue this newest clue and find out where Mr. Lacy abided. ~~~~~ Elizabeth was relieved to have him back, but he didn�t stay long. He showed her the book but not the note. Then, he found a full phone book and map of Vagrant�s Hideaway in the lobby, and dismissed himself again. The time was 8:31 on their second night in this desolate town All phones were still out. Any car that was checked was dead. Mystery hung in the air. And hope was riding the edge of a knife. Yet, Greg played on in this goose-chase of enigma. He found himself trudging through the un-shoveled way of Matheson Street, (not that any street had been shoveled.) Using the mailboxes, Gregory searched for the correct address, going back and forth across the road, at first, to see how they were numbered. After a few minutes, he found it - 134 Matheson, home of Theodore Joseph Lacy. The house appeared no less normal than anything else in this ghost town, although, there was a doghouse in the front yard under a weeping willow that gave Greg a chill. There seemed to be a veil of darkness clinging around the area that the flashlight couldn�t penetrate. Discomforted, he kept walking by. He went up the front steps and tried the door; it opened slowly, luring him in. No light was on inside, so Greg cautiously stalked abroad, careful not to run into any furniture. Passing by a window, moonlight shone through valiantly and illuminated the hallway with an eery presence. After searching all of the downstairs and finding nothing useful, Greg moved his investigation upstairs. Before the staircase reached the second floor, there was a landing at which the stairs turned and went up to the left. At the landing, there was an open window. A curtain flapped about and snow was drifting in. At the top of the flight of stairs were two rooms: one to the right, another straight ahead. In both, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Down a hall and to the left was a small bathroom in which Greg saw nothing spooky except its frightening lack of cleanliness. And finally, a bedroom lie at the end of the upstairs hall. Approaching a bed, he noticed some clothes on top of the sheets; they were sopped with blood and a note was protruding from the shirt pocket. In blood, it read, �Who�s to say it was here? The janitor worked in a morgue! What a fitting place if I may say.� Those words struck him with more terror than anything that had happened up to this point, save the nightmare in 208 (which most likely could not easily be surpassed.) It was becoming more apparent that someone had set all this up, expecting a passerby or a cop or anyone to follow this wicked game. What if the killer is still here? Greg was now unsure if he desired to continue. He grabbed the note and rushed out of the house. On the way out, he slowed down and crept by the doghouse, which made him shudder still. He was almost certain something would leap from the darkness beyond the door and attack him. Nothing did. ~~~~~ Instead of returning to check on his family, he continued, in spite of the possible danger that could be lurking around him. He had to know what was happening. With the recently discovered note, his own wits and courage, and the ever-handy map of Vagrant�s Hideaway, Greg deduced that Mr. Lacy probably worked in the VH Medical Clinic, since there would be the only morgue in town. Following the map, he made his way across seven streets to Forest View Road, where the medical center was located. Its doors automatically slid open and he entered. Flourescent lights sufficiently illuminated the place, so it seemed as if they should be open for business, but no occupants greeted him on arrival. Going over to their front desk, Gregory utilized a facility map and discovered the location of the morgue; it was in the basement, naturally. He headed down a few desolate hallways where wheelchairs, IV poles, medical carts, and other various pieces of equipment cluttered the floor. Just like everywhere else in town, it appeared as if everyone vanished in the middle of their daily activities. Kind of creepy... At the end of a derelict, plain-looking corridor, there was an open door with a sign that read, �Morgue,� and below that, yet another that read, �Restricted Access.� As uninviting as the signs claimed the room to be, the fact that the entrance was propped open by an unseen force made Greg all the more eager to trespass. So... he did. The morgue was dimly lit by a soft, blue light that baptized a few sheet-covered metal carts that lie in the middle of the room. In fact, there were three carts, one for each of the three recently murdered victims over the last week, including the young Patricia Waters. There was a lump under each sheet, which indicated to Greg that the bodies were still there, strangely. As he approached, he could see that the sheets were soaked with blood, which set his nerves on end and the tiny hairs over his body standing up. For some reason, the dead did not disappear along with the living. As Greg walked around the room looking for clues, he heard a slight noise. When he pin- pointed the sound, it seemed to be coming from within one of the cabinets along the wall where the bodies were stored. �Just great,� he muttered, realizing the situational cliche. He assumed there would be a body inside. And he would pull out the tray and be frightened by what he saw. It was a good thing he was in an expectant mood, for that was exactly what he found. A body of a middle-aged man wearing a janitor�s uniform was inside. His throat was slit and a look of absolute horror expressed on his bluish face. A name badge he bore on his shirt read, �TJ,� and his arms were clutched over his chest, holding onto a book. Greg looked around and shouted out to nobody, �Ah-ha! You thought you could scare me? You should know who you�re dealing with! Try something like that again!� He stared at the corpse, and then pried the book from stiff fingers. He put Mr. Lacy back to rest inside the cabinet. No talking, moving corpses this night. With his rebellious and humored state of being, he indulged himself with the new contents of this fourth book. �I am the One, back from the Void. They believed I was gone for good. But as long as I am called upon, the way will be open.� More ranting of some delusional mind, Greg presumed. But there was nothing more to be discovered. Going back to the hotel, he felt tonight was all in vain. There were no new directions to follow; he had reached a dead-end to this riddle. Ah-ha! You thought you could scare me? You should know who you�re dealing with! Try something like that again! But... perhaps... someone, or some thing heard his cries, heard his challenge, and would dare to meet it. |